


A Friday Night In

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 13:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Friday night in at the Bushwick loft.</p>
<p>Bushwick futurefic, set within the next year or so, after Blaine’s graduation, spoilers through but not past 5x04</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Friday Night In

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I see the Bushwick loft in current Glee canon I start imagining what it might look like in a year, who would be occupying it, how they'd be sitting in it... And sometimes I write those ideas out. I have no expectations that this will be canon, only that I'd love it if it were. :)
> 
> This is kind of a word picture or a moment more than a story.

Blaine slowly blinked open his eyes, not asleep where he lay but relaxed enough that it still took him a minute to focus them, and stretched out his legs on the nest of floor pillows he was reclining on. It was so comfortable there, one of his favorite places in the apartment even when they weren’t also occupied - like they were now - by Kurt, on whose thigh Blaine’s head was resting. Blaine loved to sprawl there on his own with his homework or a cup of coffee, but with Kurt sharing them the pillows were that much better: soft and cozy and unstable enough that the two of them always ended up smushed up next to each other, curled into each other no matter where the rest of their attention was focused. He loved that. He loved being snuggled up with Kurt.

Blaine looked up at him. It was an odd angle from which to see his fiance; Kurt was more jaw, nose, and eyelashes than usual, sitting up straight above him. He was still handsome, though, and all the more attractive for the little smile playing on his lips as he glanced up at the apartment around them while he leaned against the coffee table and worked on something on the sketchpad sitting on its surface.

“Are you comfortable like that?” Blaine asked him, frowning a bit at the twist of Kurt’s lean body between Blaine’s head and the angle of the table. He was intimately aware of just how flexible Kurt was, but he didn't want him to be uncomfortable when Blaine was so relaxed and happy.

“Just fine,” Kurt replied. His gaze dropped to Blaine’s face, his eyes bright and in that moment as blue as a summer’s day, and the hand that was caught in Blaine’s hair began to stroke through it some more. He smiled down at Blaine. “You?”

Blaine pointed his toes like a contented cat and rolled his head a little on Kurt’s leg. “Very comfortable.”

“Good.” Kurt’s fingers drifted through Blaine’s hair, and he went back to sketching.

Looking out over the apartment with heavy-lidded eyes, Blaine hummed to himself along with the song Dani and Sam were working out on their guitars on the couch. He kind of wanted to sing with them, because he loved to sing, and he loved them, only then he’d have to sit up, and he was too happy where he was. He was warm and relaxed, in part from the pillows, in part from his proximity to Kurt, and in part from the two bottles of beer he’d had with Sam before and during dinner, which hadn’t been soaked up by that horrible, horrible vegetarian casserole Rachel had made for them all.

The little he’d eaten of it sat like a lump in his stomach, now that he thought of it, and he was jealous of Santana, who had made a huge fuss of it not being edible and then had put together sandwiches for herself and Dani. Blaine had been polite and had eaten as much as he could, and now he was paying for it.

The only consolation was that Rachel seemed to be getting her due for inflicting her culinary disaster on them by the trouble she seemed to be having cleaning the casserole pan in the kitchen sink. He heard her muttering from across the room as she scrubbed, yellow rubber gloves on her hands and her hair pushed back off her face with her dance headband.

Blaine knew he ought to offer to help, despite the loft’s rule that the person who cooked also cleaned up, which had been set after the night Kurt had made a five course dinner and then got to go take a hot bath while Rachel and Santana were left scouring the pots. It just didn't seem fair to Blaine that she had to do it all alone. And her muttering was getting louder and more strident.

But to help would also require him to get up, and he was so _comfortable_. The pillows were soft, Kurt’s leg was warm and firm, and Kurt’s detergent and aftershave and skin all smelled so _good_.

Way better than dinner had. Blaine made a face.

Good thing Santana had lit some candles around the apartment to make it smell nicer. They were appley and made him think of pie. He loved pie. He wondered if Santana loved pie, too.

Blaine wiggled a bit to find her to ask her, but he couldn’t see her anywhere in the apartment. She wasn’t next to Dani on the couch. She wasn’t in the kitchen with Rachel. She wasn’t on the cushions with them.

“Where’s Santana?” he asked.

“In the bathroom with Elliott,” Kurt replied without pausing what he was doing. “I think they’re comparing makeup tips. Not that either of them needs to wear more of it.”

“I think they both look great,” Blaine said. Something about the idea made him feel warm inside. He liked his friends being friends. He liked them all being together. He liked them helping each other. He liked that he was one of them at last.

Kurt made an amused little sound and tugged a bit on Blaine’s hair; it was fond and gentle, and it felt surprisingly good. “Right now, I bet you think Cruella De Vil looks great.”

“No,” Blaine told him, shocked by the suggestion. “Of course I don’t. She wears puppies.”

Kurt laughed. “Okay.”

“ _Puppies_ , Kurt,” Blaine said again. This was not a laughing matter. “Actual real cartoon puppies. As a _coat_.”

“I know,” Kurt said, petting him. “I’ve seen the movie. Both of them. Not even Glenn Close can pull off the look.”

Kurt’s fingers felt nice in his hair, all tender and somehow knowing, and Blaine oozed down a bit further into the pillows. He liked being known. He liked being known by Kurt.

“Nice!” Sam exclaimed as he and Dani ended their song with a flourish. “You picked that up really quickly.”

“I told you it was easy. Let’s see you keep up with me on this one,” Dani said with a laugh and a happy sparkle in her eye, launching into David Bowie’s “Heroes.”

“I already know it,” Sam replied, and he jumped in with his guitar. “I sang it in high school.”

Blaine lifted up on his elbow so that he could see more fully over the table. The room swayed a little, but it was pretty in the warm candlelight. “With me,” he said.

Sam shot him a grin and held out his hand to bump fists over the table; Blaine met it with his own. “Damn right. And we killed it.”

“Well, you aren’t going to now if you keep talking right over the lyrics,” Dani said. “Which means you’re going to be buying me that drink the next time we go out after all for not being able to keep up.”

“Hey, you haven’t lost me yet,” Sam told her, playing a little more loudly and taking up the verse in the next line.

Blaine settled back down again as they raised their voices together, slid his hand over Kurt’s calf, feeling the strong, familiar muscle beneath his jeans, and smiled to himself as Kurt’s hand found its way back into his hair.

“I’ve decided we should all pool our tips to save for a portable dishwasher,” Rachel called from the kitchen. “Anyone who eats here once a week or more will be a part of it.”

“We wouldn’t need one if you learned to cook real food instead of making cement and sawdust casserole,” Santana called back, her voice coming closer with the sound of her heeled boots crossing the wooden floor.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Sam said. Somehow - and Blaine wasn’t quite sure how it was possible - he’d even had a second helping.

“Yes, it was,” Kurt muttered to himself.

Blaine tried to stifle his laugh but instead let out a little choked sound that was more of a gurgle.

“Okay?” Kurt asked him, his voice low but full of love.

“Mmm hmm,” Blaine replied.

“I would have thought you’d be singing by now. Or have you passed by the energetic performer stage of beer-drinking tonight and gone straight to sleepy and ‘I love everyone in this bar’?” 

“I’m fine,” Blaine told him, trying to erase that little edge of worry in Kurt’s voice. “It’s just been a long week. I’m good now.”

Kurt’s fingers stilled and then resumed their stroking, and Blaine let the last little bit of tension bleed out of his body. He rubbed his cheek against Kurt’s leg, curled his palm over his knee, and smiled.

Everything felt golden and soft around him, and it wasn’t just the beer or the candles that were making it that way. There was homework to finish, but not tonight. There were shifts to work, but not tonight. There were bills to pay and laundry to do, but none of it tonight.

Tonight was Friday, a Friday night in with his friends, with his roommates, with Kurt.

Tonight, Blaine was just happy.

Santana dropped into the chair by his feet, nudging his ankle with her toes in greeting, and began to sing along with Dani and Sam, a lovely, rich harmony soaring above them and working its way right into Blaine’s heart. He could hear the place his own voice would fit into the mix. It was nice to know there was a spot for him, even if he didn’t feel like making the effort to fill it right now.

Smiling even more, Blaine pressed a kiss to Kurt’s thigh. “I do love everyone in this bar,” he whispered. “Room. Loft.”

Kurt chuckled, and his fingers drifted down over Blaine’s cheek before resuming their travels through his hair. Later, they’d go to bed together, and Kurt would hold him with those very same hands, keeping him close even in sleep.

Blaine sighed, quiet and content, and closed his eyes again as his friends blended their beautiful voices together and Kurt began to hum along.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free! Please do not spoil me! Thank you!


End file.
